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The bed wetter.
It is the same dream every other night.
Standing in the bathroom with the lid up,
It is time to pee
And I do.
Wakening up with soaking pyjamas is no joke.
In fact it is fearful and embarrassing .
The flannelette sheet is well damp.
The smell of stale urine in the morning
Is quite overpowering and horrible.
Even the bottom of my jacket is still wet,
As I step out of uncomfortable bottoms,
My barefaced culprit looks shrivelled
And small.
Little did I know that the small testicle sack
Only held one.
The trauma of the undecended testicle
Was yet to come..
With my heart beating I think no more water or cheese
And lift the lid of the laundry basket.
Ashamed and scared.
Not another row.
